


Let Me Follow You Down

by a_hand_outstretched



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sibling Incest, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21799363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_hand_outstretched/pseuds/a_hand_outstretched
Summary: “His turn.” Shiv’s voice is low, a sort of purr, and Kendall’s stomach flips. Sharing? Not usually Shiv's style.
Relationships: Kendall Roy/Siobhan "Shiv" Roy, Kendall Roy/Siobhan "Shiv" Roy/Original Female Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Let Me Follow You Down

Shiv’s already sitting in a booth when he arrives to the crowded bar. She looks immaculate, her hair the shortest he’s ever seen it and perfectly straight, her shirt dipping down practically to her navel and showing off an expanse of pale skin, manicured nails wrapped around the stem of her glass. Shiv was always good at acting, better at steeling herself over than any of her brothers, especially in a crisis. The only thing human about her is the hint of annoyance in her eyes when she sees him. 

“Wasn’t sure you were going to show.” 

Kendall shrugs. He’d been scrolling on his phone in the car, parked around the corner for the last 15 minutes. “Had shit to do.” 

“Oh, always a busy boy. Plotting the next way you can fuck us all over?”

“Us? From what I’ve heard, Siobhan… you’re no longer relevant.” The corner of her mouth turns down ever so slightly. 

“Can we just be _nice_? For a couple hours?” she asks. Kendall gallantly refrains from pointing out that she’s the one who came out of the gate with an attack. She rubs her right temple. “God, I just need a fucking break from the bullshit. And nobody gets it, Ken, no one else fucking gets it.” 

He knows what she’s saying is that no one gets them, their family, which is melodramatic and obnoxious but also true. He thinks about Stewy telling him there’s a friend card to play, as if friendship meant anything to any of them — as if there was a secret escape route from the bullshit, a Get Out of Family Free Card. There isn’t, Kendall’s checked. 

A waitress comes by and asks for his order. “Vodka, on the rocks,” he glances at Shiv, who’s nearly finished her drink. “Two of them. Actually, bring a bottle.” Shiv raises her eyebrows but doesn’t comment. He taps the table as the waitress walks away. “What about Tom?” he asks, trying to be _nice._

Shiv scoffs. “Tom’s still determined to suck Dad’s dick, even after everything.” 

He smiles at her, bemused. What the fuck were they even doing here? What were they going to talk about? They sit in silence until the waitress comes back with the drinks. The vodka’s so cold it makes his teeth hurt, but it burns down his throat. Suddenly conversation seems less like an insurmountable task. “Hey, so, uh, whatever happened to your fucking dog, Shiv?” 

...

The bottle sits more than half empty between them now. Shiv’s steel veneer has cracked and they’re both giggly and mean, something approximating their teenage selves. They’ve been talking shit about everyone in their life for hours, enough time for the bar to transition from the evening to the late-night crowd. Kendall leans across the table to whisper in Shiv’s ear, hand gripping her forearm. “There’s a fucking wolf pack nipping at your heels.” Shiv pretends to be looking for the bartender over her shoulder and catches a glimpse of three men standing nearby, watching them. They are practically identical — slicked back hair, dark suits, white teeth. 

“Pick one out for me,” Shiv whispers back. She’s turned her head in toward her brother and her lips very nearly touch his jawline when she speaks. 

He reels back, the sudden movement surprising both of them. He’d only expected her to laugh at them. “Don’t be gross.” 

Now laughter bursts out of her. “What? C’mon, prude.” She kicks his leg under the table. “I’ll pay you back. Hmm, no, I’ll pay ahead.” She scouts the bar, then lifts a finger from her glass to point at a lithe brunette across the room. “Look at her ass.” 

“Fuck off, I — I’m not in the mood.” Shiv’s right, it _is_ a good ass, she knows his type, but for some reason the thought of picking someone up tonight feels unappealing. He doesn’t even want to think about it. 

“You’re not in the mood to get laid? Since fucking when?” She rolls her eyes at Kendall’s serious expression. “Don’t be dour, _bro_.” She tosses back the rest of her drink and gets up, placing one hand on the table to steady herself briefly — stilettos and vodka are a recipe for a twisted ankle — before walking away. 

Kendall watches her move across the room. Her hand brushes back her hair more than once, which means she’s either very nervous or very drunk or both. The trio of men are watching too — Kendall glares at one of them, who mouths, “Oh, please,” and turns away in response. Kendall’s dimly aware that what he’s feeling is jealousy, a childish sense of entitlement to his sister that he hasn’t felt for years. After Roman was sent away as a child, they became overly protective of one another. Like most things between them, it had morphed into competition — each amassed new friends as if to prove they didn’t need the other, while punishing anyone who dared enter the other’s orbit. 

Shiv sidles up to the brunette, makes some conspiratorial comment and laughs. The other woman seems interested — not surprising, he doubts anyone in this bar wouldn’t respond to his sister’s flirting — and they talk for a while. When he notices Shiv tilting her head back toward him he immediately looks down at the table. He pours himself another drink. The ice has melted at least three times over at this point, so it’s just a glass of vodka.

When he looks up again, the women are walking over arm in arm. 

“This is Sara,” Shiv announces when they reach him. Kendall inclines his head slightly as a greeting. “She’s coming home with us.” 

_Us?_ The word doesn’t make sense, but at this point he’s too drunk to do anything but nod.

Shiv tells him to finish his drink, so he does, and then he’s trailing after the two of them, climbing into the waiting car and clumsily buckling his seatbelt. Shiv and Sara don’t bother. He watches Shiv’s hands move over Sara as they drive, curling around her thighs, trailing up her arms, cupping the back of her neck. It’s — well, it’s something, and it’s not quite the jealousy from earlier. His fingertips feel overly warm. He still doesn’t like riding in cars. He clasps his sweaty hands together. 

It’s a short drive, at least. They arrive at an apartment, which must be one of Shiv’s. It’s generic — the living room looks like it was cut and pasted from a catalog — so it must be a rental or something. Maybe it’s just where she hides away from Tom on the weekends. 

“We’ll be right back, baby,” Shiv tells him as soon as they walk through the door. _Baby?_ The word pings around his brain, finds nothing to stick to. Kendall wonders where all this is going, Shiv dragging him out to her phoney apartment as a third wheel, but finds he doesn’t particularly care. He sits on the large leather couch and cuts lines of ketamine on the coffee table. The women’s voices carry from the bedroom, but he can’t make out the words. He leans down to do one line, then another.

Sara and his sister, or whoever she’s trying to be, come back. He’s already feeling the hit, it’s like sinking into quicksand. He gestures to the table. “K — you want?” Shiv gives Sara a little nudge and waits for her to snort a line before running her hand up her thigh and pulling her over to the chair opposite Kendall. Sara smiles, loose, and straddles her legs. Kendall watches them make out, feeling both a thousand miles away and acutely aware of each movement and sound. Time stretches out. And then it snaps back.

“His turn.” Shiv’s voice is low, a sort of purr, and Kendall’s stomach flips. Sharing? Not usually Shiv's style. Sara stands up and strips off her rumpled dress, then climbs into his lap and wraps her arms around his neck. It’s a lot of sensations at once, and he isn’t sure what to do with his hands. Fucking ketamine. What had Shiv been doing with hers? Sara’s mouth is distracting, soft, pliant, and she presses kisses all over his face. It’s sweet, which is funny, under the fucked up circumstances, he thinks, so he laughs, and she laughs too, until they’re not so much kissing as smiling against each other. Shiv smacks her lips in frustration. “Get on your knees for him, Sara.” 

Sara does as she’s told. Kendall, equal parts confused and turned on, is still waiting for Shiv to reveal this is all some fucked up joke. Maybe she’ll wait until mid-blow job to kick him out to the curb. Sara has his pants undone and is mouthing at the front of his boxers. 

Shiv comes to sit next to him, her thigh right alongside his, close enough for her perfume to fill his nostrils. She leans her head on his shoulder and watches with keen interest as Sara licks the underside of his dick. He clenches his hands into fists. 

“Relax, baby,” Shiv says, sliding her hand over his, “Don’t you like her?” Sara is taking it like a pro, sucking and swallowing around him now. 

“This is — what is this, Shiv? What are you doing?” he chokes out. 

Shiv ignores the question, keeps talking in a voice that’s dripping like morphine into his veins. “If I had a cock I’d never do anything but this. Look at her.” Kendall _is_ looking at her, and absolutely nowhere else, because he is trying very hard not to look at Shiv. “What does it feel like?” 

“Um — good? It’s, it’s — I don’t fucking know, fuck, like my brain’s being sucked out of my dick?” 

Shiv seems dissatisfied with that answer. She leans down and ghosts her fingertips over Sara’s bobbing face, wipes a finger through the drool escaping the corner of her mouth. She slides her hand over her throat and squeezes ever so slightly. Sara’s eyes water and she gags a little as Kendall hits the back of her throat and Shiv holds her there. 

“Can you feel me?” Shiv asks squeezing again, harder. Kendall thinks he might black out, have a heart attack right fucking there, the papers would love it: _Kendall Roy, 1980-2019, died drunk, high, with his dick out and his sister using some rando as a human sex toy._

“Fuck, Shiv — fuck, God, stop — too much.” 

Shiv digs her nails into his knuckles. “Don’t come yet.”

“Then — you can’t — Let her fucking breathe for a second, Jesus Christ.”

Shiv grabs a fistful of Sara’s hair and yanks her up, her mouth making a wet pop off of Kendall’s cock. She’s halfway in both their laps now, straddling Kendall’s thigh but kissing Shiv — so much for breathing, apparently — and pushing Shiv’s already-immodest shirt off her shoulders. Kendall unclasps Sara’s bra to distract himself, but Shiv gets her mouth on her tits before he can. He looks up at the ceiling and tries to stop himself from coming there and then. 

A few deep breaths, then he starts pulling down Sara’s underwear. She lifts herself up on her knees so he can get them all the way off and he takes the opportunity to pull her back over him. He kisses her and she wraps her fingers around his dick again, lining him up to her entrance. She sinks down on him and Shiv says, casually, “If he gets off before you I’ll eat you out.” As if that image isn’t enough to shatter Kendall’s mind into a thousand pieces. 

He tries to focus on Sara, her long torso, the perfect curve of her ass, the steady rhythm she’s set, but it doesn’t last. Shiv starts making whimpering sounds beside him, needy, desperate sounds that don’t seem like something that could come out of her. He turns his head to look her in the eye for the first time since their arrival. Her pupils are blown and her lips are parted. She’s flushed down to her breasts. She has one hand down her pants, the other gripping the couch. He finally understands what he’s doing here. 

He moves slowly, so she has time to slap him away if she wants. When she doesn’t, he covers her hand with his own, pressing down and feeling her hips jerk up. He goes further and works a finger inside of her, then two, adjusting the angle so he can fuck up into her as deep as possible. His fingers match the rhythm of Sara’s bouncing. Shiv’s eyes are squeezed shut. 

Kendall leans further into Shiv, presses his mouth against her ear. “You’re not thinking about fucking her. You wish you were the one on my cock.” 

Sara gasps, watching them, and shudders against him. He absently runs a hand up her side, too distracted by Shiv to care. 

“You wanted me to be some nobody you brought home — one of your dumbfuck one night stands. But you didn’t have the balls to ask for it.” 

“Yes,” Shiv breathes, “Fuck, I wanted it. I want it. Please, Ken.” Shiv clutches at his forearm and he wants to get closer, wishes Sara’s knee wasn’t separating them, but she’s clinging to his chest and her pussy feels pretty fucking good so he doesn’t push her away. Instead, the limited brain power he has left is devoted to imagining what he’d do if he had Shiv all to himself — he paints a vivid picture of her spread out in front of him, her legs over his shoulders, how he’d work his mouth on her. He doesn’t realize he’s saying these thoughts out loud until Shiv starts murmuring in agreement, her pitch getting higher each time, “Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.”

"Oh, fuck, Shiv," he whispers. He’s overwhelmed by her. He watches her come undone saying his name and it’s the cherry on top of those fantasies, enough to push him over the edge too. He buries his face in Sara’s neck and digs his fingers into her hip. 

It feels like an hour passes before he manages to lift his head. Sara gingerly gets up and heads for the bathroom without a word. Kendall’s hand is still in Shiv’s pants. 

“I think you should leave now,” Shiv says, slow and careful. Kendall draws his hand away, wipes it on his leg. He pulls up his pants and stands. He’s still thinking about all the things he wants to do to her, wants her to do to him. It’s like the floodgates have opened and everything that had been dammed up between them is let loose. He thinks about all the things he’d do _for her_ if only she’d let him get this close to her again, but even as blissed out and fucked up as he is right now, he knows that’s valuable leverage he can’t share. He feels a surprising lack of shame. In the scope of all they’ve done to each other over the years, crossing this particular line seems like a petty misdemeanor. 

Shiv’s closed down again, like she was at the beginning of the night, even though now she’s half-dressed and her makeup is all smudged. 

He doesn’t want to leave while Sara gets to stay, Sara who has no right to Shiv’s time except that she’s probably getting paid for this, or paid not to talk about this, he doesn’t know, and it doesn’t matter, anyway, because he realizes this jealousy is not rooted in anything rational. He thinks about the first time he brought a girl home to meet his family. Shiv accidentally tripped her on the marble staircase. He can’t remember if it was an arm or a wrist or a finger that ended up broken. 

He swipes a finger through the powder that’s left on the table and sticks it in his mouth. It tastes like her. “You know, um, next time? You can just ask me.” 

Shiv rolls her eyes, defensive. “Oh, fuck off.” 

Kendall makes a decision before he can talk himself out of it. He steps between her legs and bends down and kisses her, quickly, close mouthed, but with enough force to push her back into the cushions. Her eyes are wide as he steps away. 

“Just ask, Shiv.” 


End file.
